Screaming Yellow. Rachel Green
“I’ll let you know if it looks like thunder bolts.”
Meinwen laughed and turned back to her digging. The soil was very flinty and she began making a mental list of things she’d need from the garden center.
* * * *
“Mr. Markhew?” Jennifer touched the arm of the gentleman perusing the special occasion cards. He turned around and smiled, his beard thankfully clear of any crumbs and, to Jennifer’s surprise, kissed her cheek.
“Ms. Brande.” He pumped her hand. “You’re just the person I wanted to see.”
“I am?” Jennifer smiled and fanned away a blush. “I’m flattered.”
“Which of these cards do you think would be appropriate?” He waved his hand toward the rack of white cards.
“Congratulations on your engagement?” Jennifer frowned, the corners of her mouth pulled upward quizzically. “Who’s getting married?”
“Richard, of course. He proposed to Mary at last.”
“Oh? Is he back then? From London?”
“No, he did it over the internet. Proposal by webchat! It sounds like a science fiction novel, doesn’t it? I cracked open the champers of course, though he hadn’t got any, being in an internet café. When are they going to invent a gadget to send that over the internet, eh?”
“I really wouldn’t know.” Jennifer grinned as she began reviewing the cards for something suitable.
* * * *
“Richard?” Mary trailed the end of a crop across his cheekbone. “Are you ignoring me?” She reached out and plucked a stray hair from his oh-so-neat locks.
“Ouch!” Richard grabbed the end of the crop and twisted it, spinning around to face her and raising his arm. “Don’t try those games with me, dear. This isn’t some trivial drama for your amusement, you know.”
Mary’s face creased as she blinked back tears. “Stop it, Richard.” The nerves in her arm felt like they were on fire. “You’re hurting my arm.”
“Let go of the crop then.”
She released her grip and he pulled it away to examine it. “Where did you get this?”
Mary pouted. “My mother’s room.” She rubbed her arm wondering if she could get away with slapping him. He had perfect cupid-bow lips when he wasn’t stretching them into a cruel smile. “Give it back or I’ll change my mind about the engagement.”
“I don’t think so.” Richard tapped his thigh with the crop.
“Why not?” Mary’s gaze was drawn to the twitching leather. She wondered what it would be like to be helpless, feeling the sting of that little loop across her naked bottom and other, more intimate places.
“It’s my stepfather’s.”
* * * *
Jennifer took a short cut home from town, where she’d had coffee with two of her friends at the White Art, hoping to catch a glimpse of Richard Godwin. The woods below Laverstone Manor, while not actually a public footpath, were well enough used by the locals. The owner, Harold Waterman, turned a blind eye to walkers using it.
She was admiring the sea of wild garlic edging the path when she reached the high boundary wall between the woods and the park. A voice on the other side sounded just like Richard Godwin. She crept closer, pushing through the garlic to press herself against the cold granite blocks.
“You must be patient,” he was saying. “You know I can’t afford to make him angry at me.”
“But I was so surprised.” The second speaker was a girl, although Jennifer didn’t recognize the voice. Someone young, she thought.
“I know. I’m sorry.” Richard sounded anxious. “Don’t worry, though. It’s only until my inheritance is settled. I can’t afford to risk Robert taking me out of his will.”
“I understand, Richard, but how do think it makes me feel, hearing of your engagement to that woman?”
“Mary’s all right,” Richard said. “You’d like her if you got to know her properly.”
“I didn’t think you liked her very much either,” the girl said. “You never said before.”
“Let’s not quarrel.” Richard’s voice was soothing. “Let’s go back to the hotel and I’ll give you something to warm you up.”
Jennifer stayed where she was until the voices faded completely, bursting to tell someone the news.
* * * *
Jennifer got to the house just as Simon was pulling on his overcoat. “I’m glad I caught you.” She dropped her shopping bags on the old pew in the hall. “I saw Robert in town and guess what?”
“How should I know?” Simon checked through the contents of his briefcase. “Look, did you put the communion wafers and wine in here for the housebound old dears?”
“Of course. Don’t I always? Never mind that though. What about my news?”
“What about it? It can’t be all that important or he’d have told us yesterday.”
“Think again.” Jennifer was all but shaking with excitement. “Richard and Mary have got engaged!”
“What? They can’t have done. Richard doesn’t even like her.”
“Well, he does now.” Jennifer clutched his arm. “There’s more, too. I was walking home through the woods at the bottom of the manor when I heard him talking.”
“Heard who? Robert?”
“No, silly, Richard. I couldn’t see him because he was on the other side of the park wall, but it was definitely him.”
“So?” Simon closed his briefcase. “Do hurry up, Jennifer, I have to go.”
“He’s got another girl on the side,” she said. “I wasn’t far wrong about the Markhew harem after all. Like father, like son.”
“Stepson,” Simon corrected. “That’s ridiculous, though. Why would he get engaged to Mary if he’s already got a girlfriend? What was he saying to her?”
“He told her to be patient. He didn’t want to upset Robert in case he took him out of the will. Do you think that he doesn’t love Mary at all and is only agreeing to marry her for the inheritance?”
“I hope not.” Simon’s expression darkened. “I couldn’t allow a marriage like that to go ahead. It augers too much trouble for all those concerned, let alone the whole question of the sanctity of marriage.”
“Who do you think his mistress is?”
“How should I know? There are dozens of girls in the town.” Simon looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go. I’ll drop in at the White Art on my way back. See if I can talk to Richard about all this.”
“Good.” Jennifer straightened his lapels. “It’s about time you got some gossip for me.”
“It’s not gossip when it’s straight from the source.” Simon checked his hair in the mirror. “You know I don’t hold with gossip.”
* * * *
At The Herbage, Meinwen was begging for release. “Please?” She clenched her pelvic muscles in an effort to prevent her orgasm, twisting against the bonds in the effort. Ropes dug into her skin, the momentary pain bringing her back from the crest before building the anticipation higher.
“Not yet.” His voice was a monotone, almost menacing. “Wait.”
“Oh God!” Meinwen tried to think of mathematics? Plumbing? Anything to take her mind off it. “The bathroom tap is dripping,” she